


God Only Knows

by inkandpencil



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF God, But he WAS a certain type of angel, But they get their comeuppance, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Not Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Except for Michael, First Kiss, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Healer Crowley, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Archangels are bastards, don't want to give too much away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24033259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandpencil/pseuds/inkandpencil
Summary: Heaven comes for Aziraphale, once again. Crowley finds out and does what he does best. God is Not Happy with the actions of her Archangels.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 242
Collections: My faves - Good Omens Whump





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> In which Heaven takes Aziraphale and he finds out why.

He had been on his way to an estate sale when they ambushed him. That was all he could reliably remember. When he came to, he was on a floor, bound in chains, his wings a steady pressure at his back. It was dark in the room, so he didn't have the ability to really get his bearings, but it certainly felt like he was back in Heaven.

Unable to keep time, he had no idea how long he'd been sitting awake in the dark. Then the door opened, spilling bright light into the room and making him squint and try to shield his eyes. As the room - cell, actually, now that he could see it properly - lit up, four figures entered. Gabriel walked right up to stand before him, smiling down at him like a used-car dealer.

"Aziraphale. Aziraphale. Aziraphale," the Archangel said, sounding as though he were so very disappointed in the Principality. Before, Aziraphale would have immediately begun rambling and trying to talk in circles. But this was after, and all he did was keep silent. "You know why you're here, don't you?" Aziraphale did not deign to respond, only blinked expressionlessly up at him. Gabriel huffed a laugh in that way he did when he was slightly uncomfortable, glancing back at the other three Archangels.

When Gabriel turned back, Aziraphale saw stars, his head snapping to the side. The Archangel had struck him across the face. He wondered slightly that he didn't feel more shocked than he did, as he righted himself. It felt a little like his lip might be bleeding, but he didn't dare check; he didn't want to give Gabriel any satisfaction like that. His expressionlessness and his lack of any response seemed to enrage at least Gabriel and Sandalphon. Going for the appearance of being bored, Aziraphale looked down at himself. There were manacles around his wrists, with chains attached - he'd felt that much in the darkness - but he was in his heavenly attire, not his normal 'human' clothes. That made him feel a little better. Anything they might do wouldn't damage his favorite clothing. 

A hand firmly gripped his chin and tilted his head back; Gabriel glared down at him. A small part of him was shocked at his own boldness, but he'd really had enough of the bullying that he'd been subjected to for over 6,000 years.

"I will enjoy reprimanding you," the Archangel practically hissed. Aziraphale continued to be unfazed; he'd heard worse hissing from his demon. The fact he hadn't started stumbling over himself to talk his way out of the situation seemed to infuriate Gabriel, who was glaring down at him. He realized then that his continued reticence and non-reactions were providing him with a type of power over them, even though he was bound and seemingly at their mercy. Or, at least, over Gabriel.

"Gabriel," Michael suddenly interjected. "We have a meeting. We mustn't be late." Gabriel sneered down at Aziraphale for a moment before releasing his chin forcefully.

"Fine! Let's go," he said, turning to the others. "It's not like he won't be here when we're done." Aziraphale watched them leave. Michael was the last out the door; she threw an odd look over her shoulder as she left. As darkness descended again, the angel pondered her meanings.

After some time, a soft light flickered into existence. It drew Aziraphale’s gaze. He contemplated the soft light. With the light, he was better able to see the cell he was in. It was rather featureless, with loops on the floor, walls, and ceiling where chains could be attached. He saw he was chained to a loop on the floor. Without really thinking about it too hard, the angel gripped the chains and tugged, just to see how well they were created. They, sadly, didn't budge.

With nothing else to do and his mind decidedly blank, he returned to his contemplation of the light. He'd gotten lost in it when the door to the cell opened once more and the Archangels entered. Gabriel frowned at the light and tried to extinguish it, but couldn't. He glared at Aziraphale who merely watched him disinterestedly.

"Is this your doing?" Gabriel asked, his tone light but covering a venom that really had no place in an Archangel's voice. For a few human heartbeats, Aziraphale debated continuing his unresponsiveness. He decided to actually provide an answer, though it was a non-verbal one; he shook his head slowly. All of the Archangels looked like they didn't want to believe him - except Michael, who looked warily at the light.

"Well!" Gabriel exclaimed suddenly, clapping his hands once before rubbing them together. "Enough of that. Let's get started, shall we? Sandalphon, lift him up." At the command, Sandalphon stepped forward and gestured at the chains connected to the manacles around Aziraphale's wrists, then used both hands to gesture to two of the loops up on the walls, opposite each other. The chains released from where they had been attached to the floor and flew to those loops to connect there. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, that meant that his arms were spread out and he was lifted up off the floor to hang suspended just above it.

It was all he could do not to cry out in pain.

"Chain his wings. They could be dangerous." The Principality heard the chains, but felt the special wing manacles as they pulled his wings out, spreading them against his will. Somehow, he still managed to keep his silence, gritting his teeth to do so. He had a brief flash of memory, watching an innocent soul being nailed to a cross before it was lifted so he could die; he felt as though he was now a poor mockery of that same pose. It wasn't a comforting thought. Keeping his breathing as even as he could, he watched Gabriel approach. The Archangel looked smug, as though he was pleased with himself for this. "I'm going to enjoy this," he said softly to the angel.

The blows came fast and hard and Aziraphale bit his tongue to keep from making any noise. Even so, he had been a bit of a warrior, once, and he'd never really lost the instincts. Moving more swiftly than the Archangel anticipated, he brought his legs up toward his chest, planted his feet into Gabriel's form, and shoved.

The Archangel flew backward into Sandalphon and Uriel, knocking them all against the wall. After a brief moment, they straightened and dusted themselves off. Michael stood apart, lips a thin line of disapproval, looking like she wanted to say something, but Gabriel nodded once at Sandalphon, who gestured toward Aziraphale. Manacles appeared around his ankles and a chain bound them to the floor. Once that was done, all three converged on the bound angel.

By the time they were done, the clothes on his back were ribbons, a few of his feathers had been pulled out, and he felt as though he knew what it truly meant to physically be someone's punching bag. Aziraphale had not been able to stop the tears, but he had been able to keep his silence. At least, until the Archangels left his cell; then, he sobbed as softly as he could.

Later, the cell door opened a bit and Michael slipped through. She looked troubled, but Aziraphale watched her warily. She moved slowly toward him, carrying a small cup in one hand as she looked him over. She didn't speak right away, but lifted the cup to his lips instead. He turned away.

"Please, Aziraphale," she pleaded softly. "Drink." He'd never heard her plead, never heard anguish in her voice quite like he did now. With a flash of insight, he realized she had likely voiced some dissent and was overridden by Gabriel's desire to get revenge on him. Now she was stuck being drug along, forced to watch what the others did to him and unable to stop it. 

Slowly, keeping his eyes on her, he put his lips to the small cup and tilted his head down enough to drink. She merely held the cup as he drank the water she had brought, until he indicated he was done. He didn't ask her why, though he wanted to, and she didn't speak any other words. 

She moved around him to view the damage done to his back. A soft hiss confirmed how bad it was; he couldn't stop the slight flinch at her very light and gentle touch. He felt a little bit of healing energy curl across his back; it wasn't enough to fully heal the lacerations, but enough to stop the bleeding and start the healing process in earnest. Then she was standing before him again, her expression pained but otherwise unreadable. Before she left, she reached up with a handkerchief and dried the tear tracks on his cheeks. Then she was gone.


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley discovers Aziraphale's disappearance and receives help from an unexpected quarter.

It had been several days since Crowley had seen or heard from Aziraphale. Granted, the angel had gone to an estate sale, so it was possible that he was lost in the books he had found, but the demon found himself worrying. Deciding to ease what he was otherwise ignoring, Crowley got into the Bentley and headed to the bookshop. 

Though the drive there took the usual amount of time, the demon felt like time was dragging by and that the drive took longer than normal. Upon arriving, he saw the sign on the door was turned to 'Closed', which he had expected. He parked as usual and got out, heading quickly to the doors. A quick snap of his fingers unlocked the door and he sauntered in, covering his concern as best he could.

"Aziraphale?" he called out, closing the door behind him. There was no answer. "Aziraphale?" he called again, heading into the back room. And again once he was in the little upstairs apartments. Silence greeted him. Crowley searched the shop, but the angel wasn't there. It worried the demon more than he wanted to admit; the angel should have been back by now. It wasn't like Aziraphale to leave his beloved books for so long. 

The demon stood in the rotunda area and turned in a circle, mind racing, desperately trying to not see flames in his mind's eye. Maybe Aziraphale was at one of his favorite places he liked to visit when not at the bookshop, he decided, leaving the bookshop swiftly and snapping the doors locked. He drove around London, stopping and searching all the places he knew his angel liked to visit. Aziraphale wasn't at any of them. Sitting in the Bentley, Crowley finally admitted to himself that he couldn't even sense the angel. Which only served to increase his worry. Had Hell gone after Aziraphale? Had Heaven?

Currently out of options, Crowley returned to his flat. He thought about yelling at his plants, but knew it wouldn't help him. Instead, he went to his desk and started examining the globe on it. He used his demonic powers to reach out, trying to locate Aziraphale. It was no use. The angel could not be found that way.

Flopping into his chair, he noticed a delicately folded piece of parchment sitting on the desk, tucked under the base of the globe. As he reached for it, he smelled angel. Wary, he plucked it from under the globe and unfolded it to read the contents.

_Aziraphale held in Heaven. Cell 13. 7th holding floor. -M_

Crowley wasn't sure if he should trust the note, but it was the only lead he had on Aziraphale's whereabouts.

Heaven had Aziraphale.

Which meant it was most likely Gabriel and that lot.

The note was signed "M"; maybe Michael had learned something from the failed attempt to destroy him with a holy water bath? She would be someone who would be in the know if Gabriel and the others had, indeed, kidnapped Aziraphale. Looking upward, the demon tapped his fingers on his desk, thoughtfully. He would need to make a plan. He knew where the "entrance" to Heaven was, as the pair of them had gone to report to their respective (at the time) 'employers' often enough. Getting into Heaven would be easy; navigating it to find Aziraphale would be more difficult, and leaving with the angel would be…well, it might take several miracles for it to happen. But he was willing to conquer Heaven to save his angel. It was bound to hurt as much as any church, but he was determined to find Aziraphale, and, if Heaven really did have him as a prisoner, then he would rescue him. It was what he did, what he'd done throughout their long centuries here on Earth.

He wasn't about to stop now.

Course of action decided, the Demon Crowley used his imagination and planned.


	3. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Archangels show how un-angelic they have become.

Gabriel had been very upset when he and the other Archangels entered the cell. Aziraphale had been holding onto the chains holding him aloft, working to keep the pressure of the manacles from his wrists. He had figured out ways to lessen the pain. Michael's only visit had allowed him to concentrate and heal his own back of the lacerations that had landed there from the first time, but the Archangels had visited him several times since. The angel had lost track of time, didn't know how long he'd been in the cell. He hoped Crowley was okay.

Gabriel, Sandalphon, and Uriel had been verbal these last several visits, jibing and trying to bait him, but he had spent 6,000 years, give or take, on Earth with a demon as a companion. And yes, while Aziraphale could be naïve and trusting, he wasn't stupid. He saw the traps and the baits for what they were and refused to rise to them. It riled the Archangels up more, really, that he was relatively unresponsive, but he was determined not to give them any satisfaction. And if this power that he apparently had over them drove them to physical violence upon him, well, that was the risk he needed to take. Especially since they seemed determined to break him.

Gabriel stood back and watched Sandalphon and Uriel working him over. They used fists and claws for that, shredding his clothing and pulling out more feathers. Something cracked behind him, the sting of what felt like a whip on his back. It fell and fell again. Still, Aziraphale kept his silence. He knew it had flayed into the skin of his back and wings, but refused to expend energy to heal himself at all. Let them have their time; he would use some healing energy once they were gone.

A sharp sensation cut across his back, soundless and feeling like the blade of a knife. Sandalphon moved to his side and Aziraphale caught the glint from the little ball of light that hadn't dimmed or disappeared and wouldn't be extinguished along exactly what the angel had thought - a knife. The sight of the knife seemed to give Gabriel an idea.

"Stop."

The other two didn’t hesitate to follow the order. Aziraphale leveled his best unimpressed stare at the Archangel; Michael had fled, and the light was pulsing angrily. The light was enough to hold his attention, as it hadn't been doing so a few minutes ago, so he missed Gabriel handing Sandalphon something. Instead, he felt sudden pain at the end of one of his bloodied and broken wings. He barely managed to bite back his cry as his head snapped to the side to see the entire tip of his wing bleeding where the Archangel had cut it off, the tip discarded on the floor. When Sandalphon moved to his other wing, the Principality was unable to stop himself from trying to pull away, knowing it wouldn't work. He felt the blades bite into the tip of his other wing. The pain, coupled with the blood loss, was more than he could bear, and Aziraphale passed out.


	4. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Crowley enters Heaven and things take some interesting turns.

Getting to the 'entrance' was easy. Going up the correct escalator was, as well. A part of Crowley expected to practically incinerate upon stepping into Heaven, uninvited, but he didn't. Instead, he felt something light, like a thin bit of fabric or a puff of air, come over him. 

He sauntered down the corridor, getting his bearings, and stilled at the sound of voices. They were coming closer, and he looked around frantically for some place or shadow to slip into. Before he could find a place to hide, a couple angels rounded the corner before him, chatting to each other. They never even looked at him as they passed, and the demon gave them a puzzled look from behind his sunglasses as he watched them walk on.

As he continued moving, he kept running into angels, but none of them seemed to even know he was there. He realized that if he could avoid touching them, he could move through Heaven without issue. It was perplexing, but he certainly was not going to question this stroke of luck. 

He kept moving forward, slinking down corridors until he finally came across a set of stairs that told him what level he was on. Once he knew that, he knew which way to go - up. The holding floors were always closer to the top; it made it more difficult for a captured demon to escape back down to Hell that way. Once he reached the 7th holding floor, he pushed the door open and stalked down the corridor. 

Finding cell 13 was easy; the doors were marked. Getting through the door was not. There was no lock and no knob that Crowley could see and pushing against the door didn't seem to make it budge. So the demon stopped, took a deep unnecessary breath, and glared at the door over his sunglasses.

"You will let me in," he hissed, "or I will rip you from your hinges!"

The threat worked; the door swung open and Crowley entered the cell.

He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Aziraphale hung, unconscious, from chains, blood dripping onto the floor. Jaw clenched in anger, the demon moved swiftly, grabbing the manacles around the angel's ankles and simply breaking them apart. The toes of those well-worn shoes barely touched the ground; Crowley realized the only reason that Aziraphale's legs would have been bound like that would have been because the angel had fought back. Likely kicked whomever it was - probably Gabriel. Hopefully Gabriel. The thought gave the demon hope.

"That's my angel," he whispered.

The manacles on the wings were next, though Crowley attempted to be careful. Aziraphale's beautiful white wings were ragged, feathers missing and bones obviously broken while angelic blood slowly seeped out of cuts and scratches. A good portion of the tip of the first wing appeared to have been cut off. The demon growled softly; Gabriel better hope Crowley never found him or he would use hellfire on _him_! Once the wing was freed, he carefully helped it relax. Aziraphale whimpered softly, but didn't rouse, so Crowley saw to his other wing; breaking the manacle apart and barely holding onto his rage as he realized both wingtips had been cut off. It was a demented way to 'clip' the Principality's wings.

There was no easy way to release Aziraphale's wrists without the angel dropping to the floor. Looking once at the sphere of light pulsing gently in the cell as if he'd just noticed it, Crowley got an idea. As gently as he could - he'd seen the state of Aziraphale's back as he'd dealt with the angel's wings, which only added to his ire - the demon wrapped his arms around the angel's body, then snapped his fingers. The manacles disintegrated and Aziraphale collapsed against his chest. 

Before Crowley could shift him, the angel stirred and lifted his head. The demon had never been so relieved to see those blue, blue eyes. Even if they were glazed with pain and slowly dawning recognition. Sudden footsteps preceded a voice ringing through the cell.

"Well, now," came the voice from behind him. "It looks like today is our lucky day!" Crowley glared over his shoulder at Gabriel.

"Gabriel," Michael started softly. "I don't think this is a good ide-!" The Archangel was cut off when Sandalphon shoved her violently away to the side. She landed in the corner of the room, her head cracking against the wall. She was down, her eyes unfocused as she blinked and tried to regain her feet. After a few tries, she stayed down.

Crowley turned back to Aziraphale, only to see the terror on the angel's face. Shifting the angel carefully, concerned about his back, he freed a hand and reached up to run the backs of his fingers along his angel's cheek, allowing a small, warm smile to curl his lips. "Hey," he whispered. "I've got you." Then he helped Aziraphale regain his feet before turning to face the Archangels. Slowly, nonchalantly, he reached up and pulled off his sunglasses. He glared at the Archangels; Uriel flinched. He felt his angel gripping the back of his jacket as he watched the ones in front of them. "I'm taking him out of here and you're never to touch him again," he hissed. Gabriel had the audacity to laugh.

"Oh, no, demon. He's not going anywhere." With a flash that made him blink, Gabriel suddenly held a glowing chain, a maul dangling at the end. Crowley heard Aziraphale's gasp. "And neither are you." At Gabriel's added statement, Uriel and Sandalphon pulled forth their own blessed weapons and spread out. Casually, Crowley looked from one to the next. Before he could do more than that, though, the angel behind him moved.

As fast as he could, Aziraphale moved to stand between Crowley and the Archangels, his arms and tattered wings spread to protect his demon. Gabriel grinned, spinning his holy chain. "I will not allow you to harm him!" Aziraphale exclaimed; even though his voice was rough from disuse, it still conveyed surprising authority. Gabriel merely barked out a laugh.

"You?" he asked, incredulously. "You couldn't even do your own job!"

Crowley looked at the orb over the Archangel's shoulder; it was pulsing faster now than it had been when he'd initially noticed it. Taking a chance as the chain snaked out, he grabbed Aziraphale and spun them around, putting himself between the maul and his angel, his back to the Archangels.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale spun around to face him, his injured wings dragging on the floor in the process.

The maul fell to the floor with a clang, rebounding off….. Well, not off the demon's back. Gabriel tried again, spinning the chain and hurling the maul at the demon's otherwise unprotected back as Crowley gave Aziraphale a sly smile. Neither the maul or chain touched them.

"Look at the orb," he told the angel softly. Blue eyes flicked over to it, then widened before seeking out his gaze once more, hope rekindling within them. He merely nodded once.

"You're protected!" Gabriel exclaimed, barely repressed fury lacing his voice. Letting his lips curl into a menacing smirk, Crowley turned back to the Archangels attempting to attack them. "How?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know, you giant prick!" Crowley growled.

"Demonic magic!" the Archangel accused. Crowley shrugged one shoulder sinuously, schooling his face into a look of boredom.

"Not my doing, you twat," he drawled.

"Crowley…" Aziraphale whispered warningly, moving to stand beside him. He felt the angel's hand slip into his and he gave it a gentle squeeze. That was when Gabriel decided to rush them both. The demon braced to repel the attack, moving to stand before his angel, only for the Archangel to bounce back onto his rear before ever reaching them. The orb's pulsing had increased in frequency until it was practically strobing, Uriel and Sandalphon now watching it warily instead of Gabriel.

Then, She appeared.


	5. Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Someone has arrived and She is displeased. Punishments and rewards are doled out.

I arrive in the cell. Gabriel is sitting on the floor where he landed after being rebuffed by my protection over Crowley and both Sandalphon and Uriel have their weapons trained on me. Poor Michael is sitting propped in the corner, trying to reorient on the room. The Demon Crowley stands protectively before my Principality.

"How dare you," I hiss. All within the room flinch except for Michael and Crowley; even my poor Principality flinches, though it causes him pain to do so. "For your blasphemy against what I hold dearest, I strip you of your rank as Archangels. Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon, you will report to the Quartermaster for reassignment. Be glad I do not cast you out!"

"But my Lord -!" Gabriel begins. I silence him with a Look before turning to the demon and angel. A gesture at Michael as I move heals the concussion Sandalphon gave her. She blinks and slowly regains her feet as I focus on the pair.

"My blessing be upon thee and thy love," I say to them, warmly. Crowley's serpentine eyes widen, his jaw dropping slightly. The sight amuses me, but I say nothing about it. "Both of you have aided, albeit unknowingly and - for you, Crowley - sometimes unwillingly, my Plan. You have loved the Humans as I have hoped others would and worked the miracles and temptations necessary for everything to move forward smoothly. That the two of you could work together as a team to do both is astounding and more than I could have ever anticipated. Opposites attract, and though you were not placed on the Earth for each other, it is an anomaly I approve of." As I have spoken, I have moved closer to them. Aziraphale has moved out from behind Crowley and I see their hands are entwined. I smile.

"Demon Crowley. You are forgiven for your… vaguely downward saunter. You knew not what you were sauntering to, only that you were curious for a look and received more than you bargained for. Ever have you been curious; I recall your questions as an Angel. Your curiosity and your kindness have shaped you well." Reaching out, I press a hand to his shoulder, solidifying the blessing and forgiveness in my words. He shudders beneath my touch and I fix my smile upon him before shifting my focus to Aziraphale.

"My Principality. You have told falsehoods, to me, to others, but most often to yourself. And you have suffered the falsehoods of others who should never have spoken to you in the manner they did. You have made errors in judgement, this is true. However, befriending the Serpent has never been one of them. Everything you have done has been woven into my Plan, even if I had not foreseen your actions. While you were not created to have the same abilities the Humans have - that of choice - you have learned these same abilities. You are, indeed, one of my best Angels. You will always have my love." I move my hand from Crowley's shoulder to Aziraphale's, granting blessing and forgiveness in my touch. And a little healing. The angel starts to collapse beneath my hand, but the demon catches him before he can fall far.

"Return to Earth with my blessing. Neither the hosts of Heaven or Hell will be able to touch you, for you are placed upon the Earth by me and for me. Should you need me, simply speak to me. I will hear you, as I always have. I will endeavor to provide answers if you have questions, though I cannot guarantee the clarity of my answers. My one request of you both is to Love each other well." With that, I send the two back to Earth, to the wonderful little bookshop my Principality has made for himself. I have high hopes for the pair of them; my children who have learned things beyond what they had been created to learn or do.


	6. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which healing occurs.

Looking around, Aziraphale realized he really was back in the bookshop with Crowley's arms around him. His knees still wouldn't support his weight, no matter how much he tried to stand, and his entire body ached. The demon swept him up into his arms, careful of his injured wings and back, and carried him into the back room. Once there, the angel found himself gently seated on the couch and the focus of his demon, who pulled a chair close and sat directly across from him. 

His demon.

He blinked at that possessive thought.

"Aziraphale," Crowley breathed, gently cupping the angel's face in his hands. The look in those golden eyes was pained, as though he'd been through one too many wars. Without thinking about it, the angel raised trembling hands to cover the ones on his cheeks.

"Crowley," he whispered in response. His brow furrowed as a thought occurred to him. "How did you find me?" A gentle tug pulled the pair close enough to rest their foreheads together.

"Michael. She…she sent me a note. I was about to travel the world, looking for you when I spotted it on my desk."

"She…" he paused, swallowing. "She tried to help me. She healed me as much as she could, when she could, and tried to pull them away and redirect them."

"Still a bitch, but I'm glad she had some guts." Crowley sighed then, pulling away to look Aziraphale over, his brows knitting and his jaw clenching in anger at the damage he saw. The angel also looked himself over.

His wrists ached where the manacles had been; there was bruising around them and more than a few lacerations. It still felt like his lip was split, as well, though it was more tender by now than anything. His back felt like it was in ribbons, his chest like he was wrapped in bands of pain; maybe a few cracked ribs, at least some serious bruising. And his wings had broken bones, feathers that had been viciously pulled out, cuts, and the worst of all - the tips had been cut off. He didn't know how he would ever be able to fly again. Tears gathered in his eyes as he finally allowed himself to lower his defenses. He was safe, here with his demon.

"Oh, Aziraphale," Crowley said softly, pulling the angel into his arms and holding him. It was too much; the dam broke and the angel found himself sobbing softly into the demon's shoulder. Warm hands gently touched his back, slowly sliding over the torn flesh. A portion of his mind noticed that Crowley's touch tingled instead of burned, felt good instead of painful. He heard Crowley suck in a breath, but couldn't stop the tears and sobs now that his emotions had been released. The demon didn't seem to mind, though, gently running his hands over whatever part of Aziraphale they could reach.

It wasn't until the broken bones in his wing set themselves that the physical pain overtook the emotional pain and he cried out, pulling slightly away from the demon. Crowley stopped moving, his warm hand on the angel's wing where it had been broken. Only, it wasn't broken anymore; somehow, it had healed. Tears still sliding down his cheeks, Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at the place on his wing under the demon's hand with disbelief. He glanced at Crowley, saw the way he was biting his bottom lip with concentration. Taking a chance, the angel pressed the wing into that gentle hand.

The stuttered exhale was worth it.

Slowly, as though he also couldn't quite believe what he was doing, Crowley's hand smoothed along the bones under the feathers and skin of the wing as Aziraphale watched. He saw feathers come back into places they had been plucked from. And when Crowley's hand rested over another broken bone, the angel sucked in a deep breath right before the break was set. It was all that kept him from crying out again in pain. As the demon's hand moved down his white wing, it curled around. Soon, the cut tip was all that was left along the edge.

"I should have killed him," Crowley growled, reaching out with both hands to gently cup the still bleeding wing.

"It was Sandalphon who did it, at Gabriel's order," Aziraphale said softly, surprised to hear his own voice so flat and rough.

"Then I should have killed both of them," he amended, his tone softening a little as he shifted his focus. As the angel watched, Crowley placed both hands to either side of the wound and pulled. The wingtip grew back - bones, tendons, muscles, skin, feathers. All of it.

"Crowley," he gasped. He could feel it; it wasn't his imagination!

"I…It's been a long time since I could heal, angel," the demon said, voice rough. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to do it again." But Crowley wasn't done, reaching out and gently running his fingertips over cuts, claw marks, and missing feathers and healing them before moving to gently caress Aziraphale's other wing. Those golden eyes met his own, then, and the Principality was held willing captive by them. He barely felt the bones mending, the feathers growing back, the cuts seamlessly disappearing. Crowley only looked away when all that was left was the wing's tip, then he did the same thing to it.

His wings were whole again.


	7. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things that were given blessing are finally given voice.

Staring in disbelief as to what he was seeing, Crowley dropped his gaze to his hands. When She had rested her hand on his shoulder and forgiven him, he'd felt something, though he hadn't realized what it might be at the time. Now, though… When he'd held Aziraphale as he'd released all the pent-up emotions, he'd accidentally slid his fingers over the tatters of the angel's back. He'd been wishing he could heal his angel, to soothe the pain, when it had happened. The lacerations beneath his fingers had healed before his eyes. He'd sucked in a breath as soon as he saw it, but didn't stop moving. He needed to heal Aziraphale, to remove the marks from his beloved friend's corporation.

'Beloved friend.' Yeah, no. More like 'Beloved.' End of sentence.

Still not quite sure, he reached out and gently encircled Aziraphale's wrists with his long fingers, careful of the bruising there. He wanted to remove the marks the manacles had left behind, imagined the bruises fading away to nothing, the damage under the skin healing. After a moment, he started to pull away, only for the angel to grasp at his hands and hold on tightly. The connection jolted through his system, but he didn't pull away any further. Together, they looked down at the angel's wrists. None of the bruising or broken skin remained; those wonderful wrists were completely healed.

He barely managed to choke back a sob, meeting those blue, blue eyes. Eyes that held happy tears. Gently pulling one hand free, Crowley reached up and brushed away a stray tear that had decided to escape with his thumb, resting his palm gently against Aziraphale's cheek. The angel sucked in a surprised breath, then winced and flinched.

"Angel?" he asked, concerned. Without waiting for a response, he slid his hand around the back of the angel's neck and concentrated on remembering how to heal. It took a bit of focus, but he finally was able to see that his angel's ribs were bruised, one of them cracked but not fully broken, and his abdomen looked like a wasteland. It wasn't difficult to want to see that damage disappear. Nor did it take terribly long. In seconds, Aziraphale was breathing easier.

But Crowley wanted to be sure, so he reached further for any other harm the former Archangels had done to his angel. Any damage was healed until there wasn't any left. Then he pulled back to himself, opening eyes he didn't recall closing. Aziraphale was looking at him in wonder, idly checking his lip where it had been split. It wasn't, anymore. He couldn't help the soft smile his own lips curled into.

"You…" Aziraphale began.

"She said I was forgiven. I could heal, before. Been a long time, though." He wasn't quite prepared for the suddenness of finding himself with his arms full of his angel. Aziraphale's arms were wrapped around his shoulders; he could feel the angel trembling again as he lightly wrapped his own arms around the blond and simply held him. "Aziraphale?"

"You could have been destroyed!" The angel's voice was soft and broken, almost a sob, and the words sounded like they were wrenched from him.

"If it freed you from their clutches, it would have been worth it," Crowley admitted. The angel was right, after all. He'd taken a huge risk, entering Heaven like he did; if any of those angels who he'd passed had seen or sensed him, he never would have even made it to rescuing Aziraphale. The thought of his angel remaining at their 'mercy' had Crowley clutching the blond tighter.

"Eternity without you would be worse than anything they have done to me," Aziraphale breathed out, voice shaking as much as his arms were, where they were wrapped around the demon's shoulders.

"Yeah," Crowley breathed, agreeing. A couple other things that She had said chose that moment to ricochet through his mind. _"My blessing be upon thee and thy love."_ and _"My one request of you both is to Love each other well."_ He sucked in a sharp breath before gently pulling away just far enough to look at his angel. Blue eyes looked up at him in concern, but he gently cupped the angel's cheek. "I love you." Such small words, really. But the effect they had on Aziraphale was large.

"Crowley," he breathed, tears welling up in those blue eyes even as the first bright smile the demon had seen in a long time bloomed across his lips. "Oh, _Crowley_! I love you, too. I have for such a long time." Crowley felt his own lips twist into an answering smile. Without a second thought, he leaned in and pressed his lips to his angel's, drinking in the soft gasp of surprise and reveling in holding Aziraphale as the angel melted into his embrace.

He broke the kiss after a solid moment, leaning his forehead against the blond's and studying those beloved blue eyes. "She knew," he whispered. "Knows." He watched Aziraphale's expression grow thoughtful as he thought back on what had occurred before their return to Earth, then he nodded, smiling.

"She did." He paused. "Does. She gave us Her blessing to be together."

"Put us back on Earth, Herself," he agreed. "Said we're Her agents. Made us untouchable."

"Except to each other."

"Except to each other, yeah." He licked his lips, eyes darting down to look at Aziraphale's mouth then back up to those hypnotic blue eyes. "Want to kiss you again," he admitted. The angel answered by leaning in to do just that.


End file.
